Gin Bramble
by Silver8
Summary: No, it does not always have to be a Mai Tai for Draco Malfoy...tonight, it is Gin Bramble.


Gin Bramble 

Summary: No, it does not necessarily have to be a Mai Tai for Draco Malfoy...tonight, it is Gin Bramble.

**Recipe for Gin Bramble**

It was a posh bar, naturally. Draco Malfoy could not possibly get his drinks in a bar whose reputation did not meet the near-unattainable standards he had set up for his lifestyle long ago. The atmosphere in 'Le Corbeau' was permeated with exclusivity and the kind of understated elegance that Draco had adopted for his own appearance lately, after successfully conquering the childish desire for lavish décor and opulence.

His lips curled in distaste as he recalled the outfit he had been wearing on his last visit. Anyone else dressed in such an affront to the eyes that his clothes had been then would have been cursed into next week at the entrance already, but the Malfoy name still counted for something and inspired the awe it deserved.

Lazily, Draco swept his gaze over the room, registering a few familiar faces, but not bothering to acknowledge, let alone answer their indications of greeting.

**Ingredients**

_Same clientele as usual, _he thought with an inward sigh of ennui. _I wish an _inconnu _would appear and put an end to this bloody tedious routine._

Right on cue (as if even the universe had chosen to obey Draco Malfoy's wishes – he smiled smugly at the thought), the door that linked the entrance hall with the main room where Draco was standing at the bar, opened and admitted a woman.

Heads turned instantly and the newcomer found herself being stared at by twenty people with more or less concealed expressions of surprise mingled with curiosity on their faces.

It was not because she was new there (although she was), it was not because she was beautiful (although she was that, too) – the reason for the general astonishment was the simple fact that this unknown woman had entered alone. Women did not enter 'Le Corbeau' by themselves. Never. This unwritten rule presented itself as dogmatic – no explanation had ever been given and no-one had ever asked for it, just as they would not ask to have their whisky put into a martini-glass. This woman, however, looked capable of it. With graceful and confident steps, she crossed the room and sat down on a bar stool, her light-green dress draping itself flatteringly around her slender legs.

**2,5 cl of freshly pressed lime juice**

Draco's interest was piqued. He observed her closely, realizing that her hair, which had seemed dark-brown in the dim light of the room was, in fact, red.

**2,5 cl of crème de mure**

He had convinced himself long ago that he had never had a foible for redheads, preferring dark hair and olive skin, but something in the back of his mind refused to let him look away now. Instead, he found himself approaching the woman slowly, ever wondering what the hell he was doing. It was not his style to chat up women in a bar like an ordinary bloke, even if the bar was as posh as this one and the woman as beautiful.

An almost imperceptible movement of her head sent a trace of her perfume towards him. Draco inhaled the sweet scent with semi-closed eyes and decided that he liked it.

**1,25 cl of sugar syrup**

His eyes slid over her, evaluating. She had glorious, shiny hair that curled softly past her shoulders and fair skin with golden freckles that simply invited kissing. Her slender body was highlighted by the smooth green dress that fit into the surroundings perfectly, being of the same simple elegance that signified not only excellent taste but also considerable wealth.

Put the gin, the lime juice and the sugar syrup in a shaker with ice cubes. Shake well, then sieve into a sling-glass.

Draco's decision was made. This woman was going to be his. A lazy smile appeared on his features, the kind of which he was convinced it made him irresistible and just as he was about to infuse his voice with the right amount of suavity, nonchalance and charm, the woman turned her head and looked straight into his eyes.

**Add crushed ice.**

The air around Draco seemed to have become chillier from one second to another. He knew those eyes well – so well, in fact, that his attempts to forget them during the last four years had been without a trace of success. The coldness of those eyes should have made him freeze, but he was so taken by surprise that he made the next move reflexively.

**Pour in the crème de mure carefully until it settles down on the bottom of the glass.**

Slowly, unthinkingly, he stretched out his right hand to touch her cheek, his whole being yearning for the contact that had been denied to him for the past few years, the contact with the skin whose softness had had imagined in countless nights without sleep...

His fingers never even brushed her cheek.

Ginny was on her feet in an instant, turning on her heel and exiting the bar so swiftly that Draco realized only precious seconds later that she was gone.

**Garnish with a slice of lemon and a fresh brambleberry.**

Numbly, his gaze wandered over to the light red cocktail she had left unfinished. Draco took the brambleberry gingerly and touched its surface lightly before making a sudden decision and putting it resolutely into his mouth. Throwing a quick glance at the exit, he felt his confidence renew itself. She would come again. They both had a drink to finish – and other things too, perhaps.


End file.
